


captains

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a sunny day when Felix tells you the captains are dead.</p><p>Well, he doesn’t tell you directly. He staggers into the camp, out of breath and panicking. He tells you to round up the others, get them into Kimball’s office. There’s something you need the hear, he says. You know it’s not good, and your suspicions build up when you realise the captains aren’t with him.</p><p>So when he says they’re dead, you can’t say you’re surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	captains

It’s a sunny day when Felix tells you the captains are dead.

Well, he doesn’t tell  _you_  directly. He staggers into the camp, out of breath and panicking. He tells you to round up the others, get them into Kimball’s office. There’s something you need the hear, he says. You know it’s not good, and your suspicions build up when you realise the captains aren’t with him.

So when he says they’re dead, you can’t say you’re surprised.

In fact, the first emotion you feel is anger.

Anger. An overwhelming rage that makes your hands shake and makes you want to tackle Felix, to shake him by his armour and tell him he’s wrong. He’s wrong, he’s so wrong because the captains aren’t dead, they’re fine, they’re going to come rolling into camp on a Warthog with that dumb music playing and they’re going to laugh at the expressions of all of your faces and tell you all that you’re dumb for thinking they were dead -

No, they’re not.

They’re gone.

Katie’s crying. You see her bow her head in your peripheral, see her shoulders heave and hear her chocked sobs. Smith’s barely reacted. He was always good at hiding his emotions. And Palomo’s shaking, letting out little gasping sounds that tell you he’s doing a bad job of holding his own sobs back.

And you? 

You stomp the ground. You spit out curses. You storm out of the office because you can’t stand to be in there another minute. You’ll strangle Felix if you spend another second in the same room as him.

He’s a mercenary. He’s the best fighter in the whole damn army. He should’ve done something. He should’ve helped them, should’ve stopped them from going in the first place, should’ve gotten there sooner -

No. Don’t blame him.

Blaming yourself would make much more sense. After all, you had ample opportunity to stop your captain from leaving. You could’ve gone after him yourself!

What did you do?

You stayed in the base and did nothing, like always.

Shout out. Spin and slam your fist into the metal wall beside you so hard you leave a dent. A couple of passing soldiers skirt along the opposite wall, eager to avoid you. They don’t matter to you. You slam your fist into the wall twice more and let out a string of curses.

"Fuck!" you shout. There’s tears in your eyes. "Fuck, fuck -!"

"Alec?"

You turn.

It’s Palomo, his helmet in his hands and tears in his eyes. You sigh, look down at your armoured hand. Your knuckles are probably bruised. What matters is Palomo, who’s not doing a good job of holding himself together.

Not like you were doing a good job either. Take a look at that dent in the wall.

Loop an arm around Palomo’s shoulders and steer him towards the barracks. You push him into the room you and Smith share. Leave the door unlocked, because Smith should be coming back soon. No doubt he’ll have Jensen with him.

You start taking off your armour. There’s no care involved; you just throw the pieces down, wanting nothing more than to be out of it. Palomo follows suit, and you toss him a spare pair of sweats and a hoodie. Jensen walks in a moment later - already out of armour - with Smith close behind. He too gets changed.

And then the four of you find yourself sat on the two beds.

What’s there to talk about? What’s there to say? You can’t bring up the captains, not yet. It’s too raw, far too raw. You only need to see the detached look on Smith’s face and Katie’s red rimmed eyes, only need to hear Palomo’s sniffles to know that they can’t talk about the captains yet.

But still, you find yourself saying, “I could’ve done something.”

All four of them look at you. Stare at your hands.

"I mean, I could’ve gone after them. Y’know, do something useful for once and stop them from getting themselves killed -"

"We  _all_  could’ve done something,” Jensen sniffs. You glance up at her, see her fiddling with one of her pigtails.

"It’s not just on you," Smith says.

You snort. “I guess not.”

There’s another heavy silence. Palomo plays with the frayed hem of your hoodie. Finally, you sigh and reach under your bed, pulling out the bottle of whiskey and the four glasses. You took your captain’s words about it being a good thing to be friends with Felix and managed to get the guy to smuggle this in for you.

The others don’t ask how you got the whiskey. To be honest, there’s bigger things to worry about. They just accept their glasses and hold them out to be filled.

It’s Palomo who says, “To the Captains.”

"To the Captains," you, Smith and Jensen echo.

You drink.

 

*

 

You have no idea how you end up at your CO’s room. One minute, you’re in your own room, listening to the quiet breathing of your friends as they sleep on. The next, you’re creeping out of the room and making your way to your CO’s, which is where you’re stood now.

His name is still on the door, written in a sloppy script that you recognise as his. You let yourself in - the door’s unlocked.

It’s as your remember it. Photos covering one wall, orange and maroon clothing scattered across the floor, bin overflowing with balled up papers. The lamp’s still on. The bedsheets are in disarray. You can’t help but smile sadly when you see the pack of half-eaten oreos on the bedside table.

You stare at the wall of photos, at the curling yellowing one of Grif and his sister. You look at the one of them on the beach, of the two of them in armour in the place they call Blood Gulch. You think about his sister - Kaikaina, he told you she was called - and how he said he didn’t know if she was alive or dead or worse.

There’s a hollow feeling in your stomach, because if Kaikaina is alive out there, she doesn’t know her brother is dead.

You feel sick.

 

*

 

After the death of the captains, there’s tension between the two Chorus factions. Any peace treaties that started to build up are torn down. Bases are attacked. Soldiers are killed.

It’s a week later when the two armies finally meet.

And here’s what happens:

The armies meet on an old football field outside of Capitol City. You remember this field, because the twins used to cross it in order to reach the river to fish every morning. You remember playing catch here with friends a few times, remember watching the stars with Palomo.

It doesn’t look so green any more. In fact, it’s just mud. Mud that gets thicker as the rain falls down in droves. It’s bad for manoeuvrability, but you comfort yourself with the knowledge that both armies will be having trouble.

You’re with Palomo in the fight. Jensen and Smith are separated from you when the fighting begins, disappearing amongst the crowds of Feds and Rebels. You hope they’re okay.

The mud is soon streaked with red. There’s blood everywhere, screams and explosions piercing the air between claps of thunder. There’s an explosion up ahead, so fierce that the guts of the unlucky soldier caught in it hit you visor.

You take a shot to the shoulder eventually. It tears through the suit, through flesh and bone and then out of the other side of your shoulder. It sends you crashing backwards into the mud, screaming as you hear Palomo shout your name.

You lay there, dazed and in pain as your blood mingles with the mud and as the rain splatters against your visor. Palomo leans over you, shouts something you can’t hear above the rain and the thunder and the gunfire.

And then you hear the shot, see the bullet that flies through his back and out of his stomach.

And you’re screaming.

He falls down in the mud beside you, lies there choking on his own blood. You’re on your knees in an instance, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you reach for the wound. There’s biofoam in the wound already, tinged pink with blood.

At least there’s one silver lining.

You sit Palomo up, wince when he shouts out. There’s a war going on around you, soldiers falling left and right. And you need to get him out of here.

You’ve lost your parents; your brothers, your captain, the house with the hole in the roof. You can’t lose Palomo too. Not like this.

Pull his left arm over your shoulders; loop your right around his back and grip his waist tightly. Hoist him up and let him lean on your heavily. He groans, lets his head loll forwards.

Look around, Alec. Find somewhere safe. Lock eyes on Smith, in the distance with a body in his arms. You shout out, feel the relief when he hears and waves to you. As quickly as you can manage, you limp over to meet up with him, and see that the body in his arms is Jensen.

Your voice is cracking when you speak. “Is she-“

"She’s alive," Smith says, glancing around the field. "Barely. We need to go. Now."

"Where?"

"The trees, where we came from. We need to go back to base and get her help."

You nod. Follow Smith when he makes a beeline for the trees. Palomo’s making it difficult for you to move quickly, however, since he’s on the verge of passing out. As quickly as you can, you hoist him onto your back and loop your arms under his knees and set off at a run.

A bullet passes through your calf, forces you down on one knee and almost has you drop Palomo. You bite onto your tongue to stop yourself from screaming, force yourself to stand and keep running, because you need to get this kid out of here.

You’re barely ten feet into the trees when Smith comes skidding to a stop. You almost slam into him, manage to come to a halt at the last second.

There’s a soldier in turquoise is running right at you. And they’re holding what looks like a grenade in their hands.

You shout out, because that’s all you can do. It’s too late to run, so you close your eyes and wait. There’s a flash, a twist in your stomach that makes you want to vomit.

And then:

Nothing.

You open your eyes.

Jungle, you realise. Jungle that’s miles and miles away from where you were. A concrete base built into a cliff face. Vines hanging from tree branches.

And a group of rainbow coloured soldiers staring at you.

There’s the turquoise soldier, hands on their hips and head tilted as they stare you down. A soldier in steel and yellow beside her, rifle in hand. Two doctors, one in Federal Army armour. That sends alarm bells going, makes you pull out your pistol and aim it at them.

"Calm down, soldier," Turquoise says. A woman. "You’ve got nothing to fear."

"What the hell is this?" Smith asks. You notice he’s pulled Jensen a bit closer to him.

"We rescued you guys, duh."

Your eyes widen. Palomo stirs. You’re sure you just heard Captain Tucker, but you must be wrong, must be hallucinating because of blood loss, because Captain Tucker was dead -

No, he’s not. He’s walking right towards you. And he’s got Simmons and Caboose and  _Grif_  by his side.

You see red.

Put Palomo on the ground gently. Limp towards your CO. Simmons and Caboose actually stand back. The CO’s helmet is off, letting you see his chubby cheeks, his patchy skin and curled brown hair. He looks just how he did the last time you saw him helmetless, that night he let you get drunk after your family was killed. He gives you a shaky grin.

You punch him square in the jaw.

Someone shouts out as Grif staggers back, letting out a string of curses while he rubs his jaw. You take pride in knowing that there’s going to be a bruise there later.

"What the fuck was that for?" he shouts.

"For leaving." You’re breathing heavily. And, without thinking, you pull your CO into a tight hug. "And this is for being alive."

You realise what you’re doing a second too late and pull back. Clear your throat, and be thankful when the Fed Doc steps forwards and says she needs to stitch the wound in your shoulder (“Quickly, before it gets infected!”) but your CO stays by your side throughout.

And when you’re hopped up on pain meds in your bed later and about to drift off, Grif ruffles your hair and says, “Good to see you too, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> bitters' reaction to grif inspired by agenttexsflippedshit's post
> 
> follow me: laverniustcker.tumblr.com


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